To the End
by The Sith Virtuoso
Summary: An ages old blood-feud is brought full circle on the sands of Tatooine. My take on the controversial, but thought provoking fated reunion of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Maul in the Rebels episode: Twin Suns. One-shot. Complete. I appreciate any reviews, and I hope you enjoy the story :)


**All characters property of LucasArts and Disney**

* * *

 **TO THE END**

 _"You may have forgotten me, but_ I _will never forget you!"_

* * *

At first, the one-time Sith Lord could not believe it with his own eyes; that the unforgiving suns of Tatooine had finally managed to break his mind into seeing that which he had sought for so very long.

He did not really hear anymore what _he_ said to his "apprentice"—the boy had said something about making things right –only for the hooded old human to instruct the boy to go north and that _he_ would be the one to'mend this old wound'.

 _Of that much he_ is _right, at least_.

His rage came back to him with roaring vigor and his body—punished by time, sun and heat—forgot its present agony.

The dark side made him alive again as the twilight revealed the face and form of the being he hated the most in the universe.

 _At long last._

Time may have greyed the once brown hair and added the lines of age all over the human's face, but the pair of brilliant blue-eyes and the way he carried himself—that deceptive serenity which he had come to hate above all things—betrayed the aged Jedi unmistakeably as the man he had hunted across that decrepit planet.

The boy and his annoying astromech started to leave atop a dewback...he couldn't care any less. The boy had served his purpose.

Only one thing truly mattered then.

That he and his foe were both present and finally able to settle what they had started all those years ago.

In a fleeting moment of reflection, he knew that in a way, they were the same.

Victims of circumstance.

Victims of beings who had, from behind the scenes, dictated their destinies to misery... and one inevitable conclusion.

But even that would not save his enemy. This was the only thing left to him and he will not be denied.

"See you soon," the tattooed Zabrak mockingly called to the boy, "my _apprentice_."

He studied his foe from across the small campfire that his enemy had made for the boy and himself.

The former Sith felt through the Force that _something_ had changed in his old enemy, but he was close...so close...to the one goal he had left in life.

He could not abide to wait any longer and decided to test the waters in the only way he knew how.

* * *

"Look what has become of _you_ ," the tattooed former Sith taunted, "a rat in the desert."

"Look what I have risen above," his hated foe stoically replied.

The Jedi's calm words made his blood boil just as he slowly began to circle about the fire with his enemy following suit, their gazes never leaving each other.

"I have come to kill you, but perhaps it is worse to leave you here, _festering_ in your squalor," he mocked, gesturing towards the desolate moonlit sands.

His old enemy, ever undaunted, simply replied, "If you define yourself by your power to take life—the desire to dominate, to possess—then you have nothing."

 _How dare you_ , the insult—made worse because deep inside he knew it was true—made the fire in him blaze brighter and angrier than ever, _how dare you!_

In his rage, and in an attempt to frighten the old man, he let loose a blade of scarlet fire from his cane.

"And what do _you_ have?" the former Sith snarled in the twilight as he used his blade to throw sand onto the campfire.

The old Jedi remained as unreadable as ever, simply standing opposite him while the smoke and dying embers wafted into the cold night.

 _To the end, then._

It both enraged and perplexed him so he began to feel through the Force for details which he may have missed.

The tenets of the Code of the Sith helped him thus...

 _Peace is a lie. There is only passion..._

"Why have _you_ come to this place?" the furious Zabrak interrogated.

 _Through passion, I gain strength..._

"Not simply to hide...Oh, you have a purpose here...perhaps you are protecting something?" and finally the Force revealed in his foe...another presence.

A powerful but _vulnerable_ presence.

"No...protecting _someone_."

At that, a grim expression took hold of the old human's face just as a sword of blue plasma burst into life.

He smirked savagely in what was to come next.

 _Through strength, I gain power..._

His angry gaze never left the old Jedi as his foe positioned into a classic Soresu inspired high guard.

His lips peeled in a snarl that could frighten a rancor as he unleashed _another_ blade of scarlet fire from the opposite end of his cane and moved into his tried-and-tested Juyo stance.

It seemed only fitting to kill this one with such a weapon.

When the old Jedi saw the double-bladed red lightsaber, he seemed to reconsider his tactics and moved into what was unmistakeably a Niman stance that inevitably would open into an Ataru inspired offensive.

His breathing grew faster as his rage and glee increased. His mechanical legs tensed, ready to pounce, ready for the kill.

His feral yellow eyes never left his enemy's clear, grim blue ones.

Their years had taught them well...and now they stood at the precipice. Each trying to gauge the other, each trying to anticipate, and at last bring their ages-old blood feud to a close.

But he was sure of one thing—the old man would _never_ start the fight. He was far too much of a Jedi to do so.

The dark side had made him strong again; made him more alive in that moment than he had been in years.

In the end, he trusted in his rage—and flew at his enemy with a furious roar.

 _Through power, I gain victory._

The bloodshine blade smashed into the blue one; just as he had predicted, in order to draw the old man into a vulnerable position.

With blinding speed, he attempted to thrust with the other blade from below to strike at the old man's thigh—only for the blue lightsaber to catch it just in time—just the way _he_ wanted.

In his mind, he had already run his red blade into the heart of his most hated enemy—the way he had slaughtered this man's teacher so many years ago.

He was faster than the old human—he understood that much from their brief exchange—and he was already marvelling at how poetic it was that the same offensive that had finished off Qui-Gon Jinn would be responsible for the death of his one-time apprentice.

With that, he struck home with all his years of hate, rage and anger, aiming the hilt of his double-bladed lightsaber to smash the old Jedi's face.

 _Through victory my chains are broken!_

And then, he felt a tremor in the Force—

The old Jedi Master moved faster than anything he had ever witnessed in his life—

There came a flash of blue from overhead and the sound of steel, cloth and flesh being burnt asunder.

Their eyes met and his opponent's blue eyes remained grim and resolute as they looked into his for a second that seemed to stretch to infinity.

Only then did he feel the pain from the deep-reaching slash his enemy had dealt across his torso.

It was the second time this enemy had given him a mortal wound but he understood then...there would be no second chance.

His strength left him like the smoke from the dead campfire just as his pair of red blades sputtered out of existence, their severed hilts dropping softly onto the desert sands.

Death had already begun to claim him once more as he collapsed forward, his breathing laboured and ragged.

He had tried, over and over again...and now he had failed for the last time.

There was no more use in fighting...and somehow he understood that he had finally come full circle.

Even the impending nothingness though could not stop his surprise when his hated enemy caught him and gently cradled him in his arms.

He looked up with his fading vision to see the old Jedi looking down on him with guilt and sorrow in the crepuscular light.

"Tell me..." the one-time Darth Maul choked out, "is it the Chosen One?"

"He is," the elderly human sadly replied.

He knew his enemy was telling the truth.

This was the end for him, and despite all that had transpired between them appreciated the honorable death the old Jedi had given him.

And so, he let go of his hatred for the first and last time.

"He...will avenge us..."

 _The Force...shall set me free..._

* * *

It would not be the first time the old Jedi had had someone die in his arms.

But never in a thousand years would he have thought that he would hold the body of his oldest, and in many ways, most formidable enemy even as the light faded from his eyes.

 _"It's...it's too late...Obi Wan,"_ the memory of Qui-Gon Jinn's last request rang in his mind, " _promise—promise me you will train the boy. He is the Chosen One—he will bring balance...train him..."_

The dying wretch he held in his arms had taken from him both the man he saw as a father and the woman he had loved with all his heart and on many occasions had nearly taken his life as well.

 _"Remember...my dear Obi-Wan,_ " his beloved Satine had said with her last breaths—and despite the years, the old Jedi felt a pang of purest agony in his most secret heart—" _I've loved you always...I always will."_

He had cradled their broken forms and heard their last words after this being's scarlet blade had ripped the life out of them.

But he felt no anger.

No hatred.

Only sadness and pity.

Sadness that he had been forced to take another life.

He felt pity, most of all, for this being who had spent his entire life on a road of pain and suffering only because he knew nothing else.

Pity that in part, it was _his_ very existence that drove Maul on that path of madness and destruction.

The old Jedi let out a sigh. He did not want to admit it, but even before, he had already felt a sense of kinship with the fallen Sith...that in another life, they may have been as brothers.

How far gone had their paths diverged, only for them to meet again this final time.

His gaze never left the dying Zabrak's face and soon enough only glassy yellow orbs scintillating under the twin moons of Tatooine remained of that fearsome feral gaze.

Only in death it seemed, did his old enemy finally find peace.

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not know why his hand floated over the fallen Maul's face, nor did he know why his fingers gently brushed over and closed the Zabrak's unseeing eyes.

But he understood why and that was enough.

 _There is no death...there is only the Force._


End file.
